


Strawberry Poptarts

by PitsOfDisclaire



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Fluff, Gay, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, a bit of angst, based on the hc that pt used to have a cruch on connor, but he makes up for it I promise, churchtarts, i dont know what to tag this as, my first churchtarts fic, sorry i made connor a dick, yeet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitsOfDisclaire/pseuds/PitsOfDisclaire
Summary: “Uh… truth I guess,”Price thought for a bit, a smug look on his face. “What’s your most embarrassing memory?”A series of Ooos echoed through the group. From almost everyone except Connor.“Hey,” Connor said hastily. “Maybe...that’s a bit too personal,”Kevin rolled his eyes “Oh, come on Con. How bad can it be?”





	1. Truth

The sun was sinking below the horizon and stars were slowly coming into view. Though it was practically an Autumn night, it was far too hot to stay inside. The elders of the infamous Ugandan District 9 had migrated outside and were extremely busy with a game of truth or dare.

“We shouldn’t play this; someone always gets hurt,” Elder McKinley had complained. The same person who just drank a small cup of hot sauce and was daring Elder Price to chug coffee. Everything was calm and peaceful. Everyone was enjoying themselves except for Elder Thomas. Otherwise known as Poptarts.

Elder Poptarts was having a terrible week, which was slowly transitioning into a month. Ever since McKinley and Price started dating he had been swept to the side. Even though Poptarts used to absolutely loathe the idea of being victim to most of McKinley’s dares, he missed it. Just like how he missed truths being too easy because they already knew everything about each other. In a nutshell, he missed his friend Connor McKinley.

You should’ve expected this.

Was what that little voice at the back of his head said. No, it wasn’t a little voice. It was the truth. It was always like this. To Connor Poptarts always seemed to be… flexible. Connor would find some friends and Poptarts would be erased from the picture. After all, they were only friends because of Church. Outside of Church, they were strangers. Poptarts hoped that them being mission partners would at least change one thing between them. Oh, how wrong he was.

“Hey Poptarts,” a voice across from him had said. It belonged to Price. “Truth or Dare?”

Poptarts sat up. It was pretty much the first time he had been called upon this entire evening.  
“Uh… truth I guess,” he mumbled but with a fake sense of life to his tone. He was barely up for a truth, let alone a dare.

Price thought for a bit, a smug look on his face. “What’s your most embarrassing memory?”

A series of Ooos echoed through the group. From almost everyone except Connor.

“Hey,” Connor said hastily. “Maybe...that’s a bit too personal,”

Kevin rolled his eyes “Oh, come on Con. How bad can it be?”

Connor was about to reply or stop the game before Poptarts spoke up. “Yeah, how bad can it be?” He repeated, refusing to look at Connor. He could feel the atmosphere grow tenser. 

As stated previously, the problem with playing truth or dare with your “best” friend is that you already know all of each other’s truths. And Connor knew this story all too well.

“Well,” Poptarts started. “It was homecoming... so I guess you guys can all see where this is going,” he laughed lightly, but it was forced and even a little sad. It died quickly. “A-and I asked someone to the dance as a date. Weirdly, they agreed to go,” he swallowed nervously. “So I got a nice suit, one of those flower things and I even bought us tickets. I was so excited to go. I walked to their house -I know you’re meant to drive but I lived 5 minutes away from them and they lived 5 minutes from the school. Plus my parents were out,” Poptarts was looking down but he could feel everyone’s eyes on him. Everyone’s except Connor’s. He couldn’t see Connor then but he knew that with every word he was growing smaller and smaller. “I ring the doorbell, the door opens. I look up to find that it wasn’t my date who opened the door. No, it was their date,” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “So my so called date blew me off on the night of homecoming. And it wasn’t that they were busy, oh no! They had just forgotten about me. They still went to homecoming,” he stopped for a moment to collect himself. “So, I was just standing there, all ready for homecoming while they apologised. As soon as they closed the door I ran home in tears,” He finally finished. The other Elders (all except one) just sat there, speechless.

“Maybe it was just an accident. That they just forgot?” 

Everyone turned to face Connor. It was hard to tell if he was angry or embarrassed. 

“Yeah,” Poptarts sighed. “That’s what they tried to tell me. Even though I bought them their ticket and we had been talking about it all week,”

“Maybe they had been trying to find a way to tell you that they didn’t want to go with you,” retorted Connor. That last part had a nasty sting to it. 

“And just letting them know 10 minutes before Homecoming started was the best option?” Poptarts laughed sarcastically but it was obvious that he was on the verge of tears.

That’s what broke Connor. “Well maybe I just didn’t want to go with you because you’re always such a clingy child!” he snapped.

Connor froze as everyone’s eyes widened in shock. Poptarts stood up to leave, refusing to acknowledge the tears that were slowly making their way down his face.

“Of course, I was clingy,” he said flatly. “You were like, my only friend… I thought... I just thought that I was your friend too,” he was almost pleading with Connor. Yeah, Connor gave him some shit sometimes but he had very fond memories of Connor. English with Connor was always fun. Sometimes they went on a religious summer camp together. That used to be nice. Lunchtimes were good but they slowly got worse and worse as the year went on. He never realised how every happy memory, that was full of life and colour slowly became dim and colourless.

“L-look Pt, we only know each other because our parents forced us to be friends. Probably just so they could carpool to Church and school. I thought you knew that,”

Poptarts wasn’t listening to Connor. He had heard this excuse, or at least similar excuses thousands of times before. The worse part was that they weren’t even lies.

“That doesn’t mean you get to be a dick to me,” he said under his breath, just loud enough to elicit a few gasps from the others.

Before he knew it, he slumped onto his bed in tears. Luckily, he wasn’t sobbing. He was just lying there, his face red and puffy, letting the tears fall behind a locked door. He didn’t care where Connor slept that night just as long as it wasn’t next to him.

Connor was right, they shouldn’t have played truth or dare; someone always gets hurt.


	2. Streets of Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's on Poptart's mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO ANGSTY, also there's a tiny mention of blood. ( from him tripping its okay ) and I hint at the thing with his sister but it's not outright mentioned

Homecoming was supposed to be the highlight of my shitty year. Yet somehow it ended up making it worse. Because you were cruel and unkind, and I was stupid enough to fall in love with you anyway.

When we first became friends, I fell in love with you almost instantly, but I didn’t know it at the time. Your dazzling blue eyes, your fiery red hair… it was all so perfect. You had the biggest, most beautiful smile and your laugh was heaven to me.

I always hoped you thought of me in a similar way.

But no. You fell in love with Steve Blade. Steve Blade the selfish jerk who only thinks of himself. You were so in love with him that I don’t think you even saw me. You only saw the best side of him- it wasn’t much, to be honest. Whenever he made fun of my height you laughed with him and then wondered why I wasn’t talking to you. You were probably thankful. He made horrible, horrible jokes and it was obvious that he’d only rip your heart out but still you fell. 

I made the same mistakes too, I guess.

We should’ve been together, dancing through the lights and sound and not giving a damn. With our matching ties, our slicked back hair… everything was meant to be perfect. I had it all planned too. If things went how they always went with us at parties, we’d leave early. Go back to mine and watch a movie maybe dine on a few poptarts. You’d complain about how we never had strawberry ones and I’d lecture you on how they were the worst ones. ‘But the pink is so pretty,’ you’d say. Then maybe if I was confident enough I’d say, ‘Just like you,’. But only maybe and maybe if. 

And if things went well, then maybe we’d share our first kiss, then cuddle on the couch as we watched your favourite movie.

But things didn’t go well at all.

I showed up at your front door. I was over the moon. I couldn’t believe that you had agreed to go with me. But no, Steve just had to answer the door. Fuck Steve. I know I’m meant to love everyone or whatever, but Steve was a piece of shit bully and you knew it. Everyone knew it but you were almost glued to his side. You could’ve at least told me.

And the excuses you gave me were shit too. 

I remember the door closing, me slowly walking down the path until I was sure you couldn’t see me. And then I ran. And let me tell you this, it is very hard to run in suits. It is very hard to see where you’re running with tears streaming down your face and your hair falling in front of your eyes. It is very hard to get up when your hands are cut from falling straight onto the rough gravel that’s so conveniently in your driveway. At least no one was there to see me skid flat onto my face. 

My suit was ruined but I didn’t care. I probably got a tiny bit of blood on the couch but I didn’t care. I should’ve won an award for the most pathetic life. You had been the only other person I considered a friend. You should have at least tried to be there for me, especially with what happened that year. Why weren’t you there for me?

Because of Steve.

Because the two of you were shitheads.

The rest of the year passed by slowly. The second most vivid memory I have from that year was when I burst out crying during class. I felt bad for the poor substitute that was just trying to make small talk. She didn’t know. She certainly didn’t know that the brief mention of family would end up with me slowly being brought out of the classroom and into the guidance counsellor's office. I got sent home early that day and didn’t show up the next few. But I remember you wrote me a card and had it signed by almost everyone. Either you left out Steve or Steve refused to sign but either way, I was thankful. When I got back the next week we were friends again. And then luckily, we got paired together for our mission the following year. 3 months of us just finally being friends.

Then came Kevin.

At least Kevin was nice. Yeah, he may have fucking ruined our mission, but he was really sweet. I remember even being a little happy for you when you told me you had a crush on him. I still had a tiny crush on you but I knew that was unrealistic. Turn it off. 

But then you started ignoring me again. When we ditched rule 72 after our mission fell apart, you still paired us together for almost everything. Going to the market, laundry, preaching- everything. But one day I was replaced by Kevin. It was subtle at first. It’d just be one job with you and Kevin, then it rose to two, then three and then before anyone realised it you and Kevin were making out in the laundry room. Which was fine. I didn’t care about that. 

I think I started to actually care when you asked me to sleep in Kevin and Arnold’s room. ‘It’s just one night,’ you lied. I had no problem with Arnold. What I did have a problem with, however, was how you saw me as expendable. Well news flash McKinley, I’m not just there for you when it’s convenient. Your life happens to affect mine no matter how much you refuse to let mine affect yours. 

You didn’t even care about how difficult it was for me to make new friends. I was surprised anyone even picked me for truth or dare. Maybe Kevin saw the poor, glum, little Elder Poptarts and felt pity for him.

I’m so fucking glad I had the opportunity to throw you under the bus, McKinley. And I’m so happy that it was Kevin who gave me the opportunity to.

I didn’t deserve the shit you gave me but you certainly deserved the shit I gave you.


	3. Something Entirely new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Church ist sehr nett.

Poptarts sat there on his bed just listening to the awkward shuffling as the Elders returned to the mission hut. An eerie silence was prevalent throughout the hut only to be disrupted by the closing of doors and the incoherent mumbling. But eventually that faded and all that remained was a tense silence. Until of course, Poptarts heard a faint knocking on his door.

“Go away,” he muttered, into his pillow. “I don’t want to talk to you, or anyone for that matter,” his voice was dull and desolate. The knocking ceased but he could still feel the presence of another person behind the door. He stood up groggily from his bed and staggered towards the door. However, he made no move to open the door, he didn’t even touch it.

“I…” finally a voice came from behind the door. It was shaky and nervous as if what it would say next would anger or upset Poptarts. If the voice wasn’t careful then it would. “Y-you might not… want, to t-talk to someone… b-but it doesn’t mean you don’t need, to talk to someone,” At every pause the voice or Elder took a deep breath, it was like they were scared. 

That sentence subdued almost every negative thought in Poptart’s head. It… wasn’t what he was expecting to hear at all. The voice obviously wasn’t Connor’s and it was far too nervous to be Kevin’s, too quiet to be Arnold’s, too American to be Schrader’s or Neeley’s as they both had distinguishable accents, Zelder’s voice is much more high pitched, Davis’ is much deeper and Michaels’ was far softer. That left Church.

Why would it be Church though? Out of everyone in their district he’d probably spoken to Church the least. He had always wanted to befriend him but the circumstances were never right. 

He opened the door slowly to reveal an anxious looking Elder Church looming over him. He stepped to the side, inviting Church in. He barely even knew him yet he trusted him immensely.  
But why?

Anyone could’ve spoken those words. Perhaps it was sincerity of his voice; how he spoke kind words with truth and meaning but showed emotion too. He was honest.

Or maybe it wasn’t to do with his voice or words. His icy blue eyes appeared somehow soft. Frosty? Soft, crystal-like eyes scanned over him in worry and fear. Normally Poptarts would’ve felt insecure under someone’s gaze but now, he felt protected. 

It was everything.

He moved back over to his own bed and sank down into his original position. He sighed rather rudely when he noticed how after closing the door Church just stood there, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“You know… you can sit,” Poptart’s said in a monotonous voice. 

Church nodded and smiled awkwardly, his eyes darting around the room.

“Where… would you like me to sit?” he replied in a curious tone.

Poptarts bit his lip and furrowed his brows. Church was certainly a confusing character, yet he somehow always managed to say the right thing. 

“I g-guess I’d prefer it if… you sat next to me,” he squeaked and Church instantly obeyed. He sat carefully beside him on the edge of the bed, leaving a safe distance between the two.

“So…” he started, looking down  
“So…” Poptarts repeated. It was awkward… to say the least. Neither party knowing what to say but both wanting- no, needing to talk. Poptarts decided to start. “Why…why did you… why are you here?” He sat up, waiting for Church’s answer.

Church’s face scrunched up in confusion as if the answer wasn’t blatantly obvious. “You looked like you needed someone to talk to… s-someone who’d listen,” he could’ve sworn he heard him mumble “and someone who cares,” under his breath.

He reciprocated Church’s face of confusion. “B-but… we’re not friends… no offence, of course, I j-just mean this is probably the first time we’ve p-properly spoken…” he pointed out.

“What’s to stop us from being friends?” he countered, a sudden spark of confidence evident in his voice. “Sorry…” and his timidity had returned. “It’s just… why c-can’t we be friends?”

Poptarts shrugged and looked away. His voice became hushed and insecure. “B-because I’m c-clingy? Because I’m too childish?” he almost spat that last part. That’s what McKinley had said anyway, and as district leader and his only ‘friend’, his word was law. He glanced back up only to meet Church’s woeful eyes, full of concern and dread. Suddenly, Poptart’s eyes were brimming with tears. “B-because…I’m not good enough?” he choked out. Before he knew the tears were flooding out of his eyes and he began to sob uncontrollably. He felt ashamed and weak, but mostly just hollow. His tries to suppress his sobs were swiftly interrupted by Church pulling him into an embrace, naturally, Poptarts melted into it. Church carefully held Poptarts against him, hushing him gently and speaking softly.

“It’s okay” he whispered. “Just let it out… I’m here, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” 

Once again to his surprise, this calmed Poptarts. Not completely, but it definitely helped. He did his best to simply focus on his breathing and Church’s kind words. Eventually, he was even able to mumble a small “Thank you,”. 

Soon Church was pulling away and brushing away Poptart’s remaining tears. “Thank you,” he repeated, more desperately this time. He slowly lifted his hands to Church’s, and gently placed them on his, slowly intertwining their fingers, but only slightly.

“Look at me,” Church started, and Poptarts willingly obeyed. “You’re an amazing. You’re so…optimistic all the time and I know that you care deeply about everyone here…you’re a hard worker, I know y-you’re considerate,” He swallowed nervously. “And you know what? F-f-fudge McKinley if he makes you feel that way, fudge anyone who does,” He sighed, smiling reassuringly at Poptarts who managed to give a small one back. “You’re so many awesome things and it’s not fair that anything bad has happened to you. I-,” but he was cut off by Poptarts practically leaping at him and wrapping his arms around him. He mumbled a few more ‘thank you’s, it seemed to be all he could say. 

They sat like that for a while; in a tight embrace and a comfortable silence. After a few moments had passed, Poptarts was being tucked into bed by Church. Just as he was about to leave, Poptarts grabbed his hand suddenly, startling the other Elder.

“Don’t” his voice was small and terrified. “Please,”. Poptarts felt as if he was radiating fear, but Church calmly made his way over to McKinley’s bed before settling in.

“Goodnight Elder,” he said softly with a warm smile on his face that Poptarts couldn’t see.

“W-wait…” Poptarts started. “What’s your name? Your first name?”

Church paused. “James, m-my name is James,” he said slowly.

“Elder James Church,” Poptarts enjoyed how the name sounded on his lips.

“And yours? Unless… your first name is actually Poptarts,” they both chuckled lightly.

“Chris,”

“Elder Chris Thomas” mimicked Church playfully. Poptarts couldn’t help but feel a little dizzy at having his name said by ‘James’. He knew it meant nothing. But still, it was nice.

But he was not letting this happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive no idea why im using Chicago song titles lol


	4. In the Summertime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare because why not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh warnings but I don't think they're needed too much: drowning is a major theme and I guess minor bullying? I just want to be safe! There's also swearing in this chapter btw

The warm summer sun cast long shadows across the land, the grass dotted with bright tiny flowers of many colours with butterflies and bees hopping from flower to flower. To top it all off, you're here beside to me. We're walking along a lake, just enjoying the early morning breeze that cools us when we get too hot. This place obviously isn't Uganda. If my memory is correct then we’re at a summer camp, 8 years ago. 

This is a good memory. It's about 7 am in the middle of June. We snuck out because it got too hot in our tent. We shouldn't have but we did anyway. I think I preferred you when you were younger. You were so much more rebellious back then. 

“I'm bored,” you complained. We’re only 11. Your ginger hair is all tousled; bright and bronze curls frame your face nicely. You're covered head to toe in freckles and even a bit of sunburn. For the first time in forever I'm almost the same height as you. With soft blue eyes you look at me fondly, like I'm actually your friend. How did you let yourself forget about this.

What happened? 

11 year old me sighed. “Me too… what do you want to do?” 

You thought for a moment, before a smirk spread across your face. “This,” you say with an evil look in your eyes.

No that can't be right. When this happened you let out a chuckle and push me straight into the water. This is meant to be a good memory. You push me into the water, I toss my head back as I laugh and I splash you in revenge. Eventually you run and cannonball into the water. You miss me by only an inch. We spend the rest of the day swimming around, away from everyone else. 

But now you're strong. You're so much stronger than before and it actually hurts when you push me. My efforts to swim back to land fall flat as I feel something or someone tangle around my leg and pull me back. It's like I'm caught in seaweed despite being in a lake. But at the same time it's like 10 pairs of hands are wrapping themselves around my leg and I'm being pulled back. I'm using up so much energy to try and swim back to you but you laugh and spit in my face. I begin to hear yelling as the camp instructor angrily makes his way over. The stomps of his feet and his infuriated sputtering echos throughout my head. 

“Christopher Thomas!” with every yell, a foreign pounding in my head gets worse and worse. “What on earth are you doing in the water? That's strictly forbidden!” I try to apologise but you cut me off.

“You're not breaking the rules are you?” Slowly, you lower into a crouch by the lake's edge. “You wouldn't dare break the rules, Elder Thomas,” now you're 19 and so am I. The camp instructor has taken the form of the mission president and I realise the other elders have all joined him. Everyone is there but Elder Church- James. Kevin crouches by Connor, snaking an arm around his waist. 

“Maybe this could be your most embarrassing moment,” he practically spits as he talks and the corners of his mouth curl down into a disappointed frown. “You, falling into a lake so clumsily, with no one to help you and no one to save you,” he laughs “You're fucking pathetic,” 

I'm struggling in the water again, and I realise that I am in fact being dragged down by something. I scream, except no sound comes out. Yet I can still feel the pain of screaming. I try and grab onto you. You can save me, you're my friend… right?

Except a new figure pushes me away from you, Steve. I'm shoved away from the land, away from you and your posse of friends. Your friends who are laughing so hard at my expense that most are clutching their stomachs in pain. Some have even collapsed to the floor. All are laughing except you. You're just crouched there, I can barely read your face. But to me you look upset, like you're sorry. 

Something yanks on my foot and I'm being submerged into the water. I can feel water filling my lungs and I'm tossing and turning to try and free myself.

Once again I'm trying to cry out for help but my throat is being flooded with lake water. It tastes vile and it stings my insides. I cough and I cough but I can't seem to get it out of my system. It tastes like cud in my mouth and my eyes begin to water. I'm in so much pain, it feels like my leg is about to be yanked off. My lungs are aching and my head is pounding. At this point I want to just give in.

But suddenly silence falls. All that's left to hear is the sounds of my own struggles.Its hopeless. But when I look back at the land I see a new figure there. It's James, he's yelling -no. He's not yelling at me. He's yelling for me. 

“Chris?! Someone help Chris!”

He sounds really far away, I can barely hear him. He looks like he's shouting but only a whisper is coming out. My head is finally submerged into the water and I hear him one last time. He's closer now, and his voice is so sweet and soft.

“Chris…? Hey, can you hear me?” so sweet and soft but so scared and worried at the same time. “I'm right here, wake up. It's just a dream… oh please wake up Chris”

And with that, I'm awake. In my bedroom, in my own bed. There's no lake to drown in and no one to laugh at me. But James is still here with me.

I collapse into his arms, he's warm and he's safe.

He saves me.


	5. Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boop I'm sorry I write Connor this way boop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there's any real tw warnings for this chapter? There's a verbal argument but it's not really violent at all. ALSO LOOK MA I UPDATED IT

Poptarts woke up at roughly 8 am that morning. Roots of panic sprouted within him when he realised he had overslept. Of course Poptarts was stuck with the district leader. God forbid you break a rule with McKinley looming above you everywhere you go. But today… something was different. That fear melted away when Poptarts remembered the bulky arms wrapped delicately around him and who they belonged to. The rise and fall of James’ chest kept him grounded, until he realised that this wasn’t right and the panic returned.

Carefully, Poptarts untangled himself from James’ embrace as he clambered out of bed. He turned to face James and let his eyes wander around every visible inch of his body. Every crevice, crimp and crack were defined by the sun that shone across his body. Spots were scattered across his arms and collarbones, jagged lines trailed down his arms and the purple veins were visible beneath his skin. Waves of his dark hair were splayed across the pillow and his face was the epitome of peace. When Poptarts was finally finished with his full-body examination of the sleeping Elder, he dressed himself quickly and left for breakfast, alone.

He rounded the door into the kitchen and was greeted with a lost appetite. Silence fell across the three elders that had been chatting playfully as they did the dishes. Connor, Kevin and Arnold. Arnold had given the group of friends the nickname ‘The Golden Trio’. It was no secret that Poptarts envied their sudden bond, and how he hated his exclusion from it. Sometimes, in his own little fantasies he saw himself as Neville or Luna. They had always been his favourite growing up. The little, side characters with more that meets the eye and the characters that had a story to every quirk. Kevin and Arnold locked eyes with each other, which was followed by two different excuses to leave. This was what he had been dreading and this was what Connor had also been dreading. Hopefully for different reasons. 

“I..uh..Good morning! Companion..?” Connor was putting on that voice again, the same voice he always did when he was just trying to please. “I didn’t see you at breakfast, did you sleep in?” The fact that Connor was using that voice was one thing, but the fact that Poptarts could see right through it was another. 

He shrugged nonchalantly as he opened the ’poptarts cupboard’, paying no real attention to Connor. He didn’t deserve the attention. But the pitter-patter of his feet as he hurried over to Poptarts was obnoxiously loud.

“I just wanted to say that,” Connor took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,”

Poptarts looked at him in disbelief as Connor swayed back and forth impatiently with his hands behind his back. “..For?” that wiped the false smile right off his face.

“What do you mean? I’m apologising,”

“Yeah, I got that...but why are you apologising?”

“Because you’re upset of course!”

“Because of you,” He chided. Whatever was left of the ‘smile’ on Connor’s face was turning downwards into a sour frown.

“Look,” Connor hissed at his mission companion. “I’m sorry that you were upset by what I said but would you please just let me apologise?” he spoke through gritted teeth as he glared down at him.

“So you're apologising..For me? Is that it, Connor?”

“Well no-”

“No,” He interrupted suddenly with new sense of superiority. “You're not allowed to do that,” he took a step closer to Connor and practically spat in his face. “You're.. You were supposed to be my friend Con..” it felt as if his anger had just deflated back into that small, sad pulp. He could never show anger and he cursed himself for that. He fixed his focus on the ground and wrapped his arms around himself protectively. “I thought we were friends?”

“Poptarts..”

“It's Chris,” 

In that moment, Connor had never looked so fragile before. Bit by bit he shattered, his sense of argument and conflict fell in on itself. He stood there, trying to form a witty reply, but all that came out were incoherent sounds. Poptarts watched as Connor’s face contorted into a frown. A frown that had a thousand layers of anger underneath and a thousand more of fear. 

He moved away from Connor and returned to where he had been originally making his breakfast. He felt too vulnerable with his back to Connor, he could feel Connor’s eyes on him. But still, Poptarts did his best to ignore him again. He considered ignoring Connor for 19 years as payback, he deserved it. But he could never. Deep down he had been hoping it had all been a bad dream, that he would wake up with his best friend and everything would be okay. 

“You just don't get it, do you?” Connor snapped from behind him. “You don't get what it's like to put your life on the line for everyone, to grow up trying to be the very best even though you know that you can't,” Poptarts turned around at this and tried to interject, but there was no stopping an angry McKinley. “I break my back everyday just to try and keep everyone grounded here. At home I broke my back everyday to try and please every freaking person around me. Including you,” 

It felt like Poptarts was back in that lake. Connor pushed him in, backed him into a corner and he could never get out. “I'm..I'm sorry,” but his cries went unheard.

“So I'm sorry that I can't hold your little hand 24/7 and I'm sorry that I can't try and make friends for you. But have you maybe...Just maybe ever considered doing something for yourself for once?”

“I do do things-”

“Why do you cling onto me like some little kid? Do I look like your parents or something? Gosh, why are you such a child all the time?”

“I'm not-”

“You're so confusing. I can't decide whether or not you want pity or if you just want attention. ‘Oh look at the sad little boy’,” he spoke in a mocking tone. “‘Isn't he so brave? Poor guy’,”

“Con..Please stop,”

“Poor Poptarts-” 

“He said stop,” The voice came from the doorway, it was loud and demanding and it belonged to the infamous Kevin Price. “A-and I think that you should..respect that request,” It was unusual for Kevin to side with anyone that wasn’t Connor. He looked terrified in that moment, but he stood his ground. “So..stop,”

Connor immediately obliged and he nodded with a huff before leaving the worried elder and the “sad little boy” on their own. Poptarts was on the verge of tears and Kevin could clearly see that. He rushed over to where Poptarts stood, whispering reassurances as he did. “Hey..hey, what he said isn’t true...he doesn’t believe that and no one else thinks that,” Kevin placed a hand awkwardly on Poptarts’ shoulder. It may have been especially out of character for the two of them but he had to admit, it felt nice.

“I..thank y-you, Kevin,” he sighed. “But..But I think Connor is upset. You should probably go after him,” a few sniffs had escaped him and the mess that Poptarts was was as clear as day. But despite all that he still couldn't let Kevin see that. Even if his efforts were futile, there was no way that he was about to cry in front of the ex-mormon poster boy. Not again anyway.

Kevin looked at him with a judging look in his dark brown eyes. He shook his head as he walked over to the counter where Poptarts had been making breakfast. “Just because he's my boyfriend doesn't mean I'll defend everything he does,” he said, dropping a few Poptarts into the toaster. “As much as it pains me to say it, Connor is in the wrong,” 

After no reply came from the blonde boy that stood in the centre of the kitchen, Kevin continued his modest spiel. “By the way...No one knew Connor felt that way, not even me. Everyone thought you guys were the “district-nine platonic power couple or whatever”. So..You're not delusional, Connor is just-”

“An asshole?” Poptarts cut in. The swear took Kevin back a little. Poptarts even managed to let out a small chuckle when he had noticed that him swearing had taken Elder Potty-Mouth by surprise. Kevin laughed a little too.

“Yes, right now he is definitely,” fear spread across his face as his eyes widened and his features softened. “But please don't tell him I said that,”

Poptarts made a motion of zipping his lips shut as he waltzed forward and wrapped his arms around Kevin. Kevin flinched slightly at first at the sudden contact, but he reciprocated the hug. 

A ‘pop’ from the toaster signalled the end of the hug and Kevin lined a plate with poptarts. “You should get going,” he said, handing the plate to him. “I'm sure Church is waiting for you,” 

“Uh..Thank you but how..How did you know?” when Poptarts left his room that morning James was still fast asleep. Maybe he had spoken to Kevin before going to him the previous night? Or maybe James woke up when he left. 

Kevin shrugged and gave the other a small smile before leaving. After standing there bewildered for a while, Poptarts made his way back to his own room. James was still there, only this time he was awake and dressed. He looked relieved to see Poptarts.It was endearing. 

“I..I got us some breakfast. I didn't know what ones you liked so I just got strawberry..,” he said sheepishly, setting the plate down on his bedside locker. “I hope that's okay,”

“It's perfect. I just hope that you're okay,” James clearly wasn't fully awake yet as his eyes were drooping down lazily. But he flashed a warm smile at Poptarts as he sat down next to him on his bed.

It took everything Poptarts had in him to fight the urge to rest his head against James’ shoulder. But even so he kept finding the two sitting closer and closer together until they had reached each other. He explained to James what had happened that morning when he saw Connor. He listened eagerly, but he nodded as if he knew everything already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of maybe writing some fics from the pov of Connor and Church? What do you guys think?


	6. Mr. Blue Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory of Chris and Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK I DID IT FUCKOS
> 
> Tw: Death ( Mentioned, has already happened before the chapter is being written ), A tiny bit of blood at the beginning, The first paragraph is mildly gory, only a little more than the nightmare Pt had in a previous chapter ( but none of it is actually real if that helps!) I think that's it on trigger warnings?

There was no rain nor was there sun. That oh-so familiar heat of the American South had faded into the background yet somehow it still irked him so much that he would give up anything to just tear off his skin or jump into the ocean. He considered how it’d feel if he did both. No matter how great the pain was he knew it’d never compare to this. He didn’t think anything ever would. It felt as if he lost a part of his mind, all that was left was memories, tears and an excruciating emptiness. Pain swam through every inch of his being, he felt it, he breathed it, he lived it. Every exhale left him gasping for air and every inhale sent jagged daggers into his chest. They pierced his skin and left thick red blood oozing out of him. His chest ached after they had been yanked out of him, the agony writhed throughout him, stretching and pulling at him. His veins pulsed beneath his skin as if some horrible disease spread throughout his body. Yet when a hand went to his chest he felt nothing. There were no daggers, no slits- nothing. He had nothing. Yet still he screamed, or tried to. His cries pooled in the bottom of his throat, only being thrusted free in trembling truncate sobs. His throat throbbed in pain, the corners of his eyes burnt a bright shade of red as he shook where he sat. He grasped the corners of his bed with all the strength he could muster as he tried to bite back the tears, his back heaved up and down, drawing in sharp breaths that burned like hellfire as they were pulled through him. Tears fell onto his bedroom floor, he tried to focus on the scratches in his wooden floor but the wetness of his eyes and his wispy hair that had once been gelled back tight obscured his sight. He could see his feet, clad in dress shoes as they quivered without rhythm. A dizzy spell was cast across his head and he threw himself down into his knees. On the edge of his bed he curled up, his hands cradling his head as he let out stormy sobs of pain and grief. Despite the soft and gentle hand that was rubbing circles into his shoulder blades he had never felt more alone in this world. 

“Shhh...It’s okay, Pops…” the voice softly sang, choked up in its own sadness. The voice belong to a kid, a southern twinge to his voice. Connor was the only one who called Chris ‘Pops’ or any form of ‘Poptarts’, at least now he was. It was never his nickname for Chris, he stole it from her. Upon hearing the nickname, fiery arrows of fury were shot into his chest and slightly to the left. But he couldn’t stay mad for long, in fact it helped him a little. It was in its own way reassuring to hear it, to hear that she still lived on, even if it was through her little brother and sugary treats. 

“No..” His voice was as shaky as himself. He lifted his head and it shook in disagreement. “It’ll n-never..ever be okay,” He countered, dragging his hand across his face to rid himself of the tears, but still they fell. 

Connor sighed, smoothing out the back of Chris’ blazer before taking back his hand. “You know that’s not true. Things have to get better, once you hit rock bottom there’s only one way you can go,”

Chris scoffed. “Are you s-sure? Because that’s exactly what you said when…” He took a deep breath. He could feel the rage writhing and bubbling within him. He tried, yet there was no way for him to calm. He closed his eyes and took a second to breathe. Dismay outshone the anger in his voice “...When I told you she had gotten s-sick,” He sighed “And look where we are now,” He could feel the sharpness of his words, he could see how they stung Connor but he didn’t care. There was no point to it anymore.

Connor frowned as he moved closer to Chris, his arm going around his shoulder timidly. Chris responded immediately by diving into his arms. He had been small all his life, it was just who he was, but as he cried into Connor’s chest he had never felt so fragile and weak before and Connor noticed this too. “You know…” he said after a while, biting back his own tears. “ I bet she was in a lot of pain,” his voice lowered to a whisper as he rested his chin on his friend’s head. “They couldn’t do anything else, they needed to stop the pain...I’m so sorry Chris. No one deserves this. Not you, not her, not your family or anyone, I’m so sorry…”

Connor’s hands ran through Chris’ hair, it’s golden colour seemed so dull now. Lifeless curls fell through Connor’s freckled fingers that seemed to for once have more colour in them than all of Chris. One hand travelled down his back and held him tight, the suit- his funeral clothes didn’t match Chris’ sunny personality. He was usually so sunny and so bright, the suit was just drab and boring, boring to the point of insanity. Where did the bright tee’s go? Connor swore that Chris had a jacket for every colour of the rainbow, the same went for shoes and ties...that gave him an idea. “I’ll just be a second,” He gave the crying boy a squeeze and a kiss on the head before he rose off the bed and walked over to Chris’ dressing table. He opened the top drawer, and rummaged through his collection of ties and bowties. It always surprised Connor how many Chris owned, who always assured that they were presents or things he bought on a whim. Hastily he pulled out a bright yellow tie and a light blue one. He smiled a little to himself and turned to find his friend sitting up and peering over to inspect what Connor was up to. His face and eyes were red from crying and a few tears rolled down his face still, but he had seemed to calm slightly. He elicited a few shy sniffles as Connor walked over and sat by him. He sighed. “We both know that Izzy wouldn’t want you looking boring for her… and me and Izzy both know that black isn’t your colour,” He giggled sadly, handing Chris the yellow tie. “This suits you a lot better. I bet she thinks so too,”

Chris let the tie fall into his hand, he stared at it for a little while and took in what Connor had said. He was right, Izzy was an optimist through and through. She saw the good in everyone and everything. She was the splash of colour in this miserable world. The sun during a storm, the rainbow after rain, the light after dark. She was a bright yellow tie, in a black funeral suit. With delicate hands Chris undid his black tie and threw it to the floor. He felt comfortable under Connor’s gaze as he turned up the collars of his shirt, wrapping the strip of sunlight around his neck. With full concentration he tied his tie. It was messy and loose but Connor placed a hand on Chris’ shoulder and turned him slightly so they were facing each other. He straightened the smaller boy’s tie, his crying was close to stopping, now he just seemed both disconnected and determined. Folding his shirt collars down he gave him a warm smile and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Chris did the same. They stayed there for a while, arms around each other, their chests close and their hearts beating in time with one another’s.

Chris was the first to pull away. “Your tie,” he muttered, pointing at the blue tie in Connor’s lap. He nodded as he too shed his boring black tie. Now in its place lay the tie the colour of a summer morning. 

“Are you ready to go downstairs?” His hand was on his friend’s back and he rubbed it soothingly, it wasn’t much but it was the best he could do to comfort his friend. All he wanted was for his friend, his best friend to be okay. Chris nodded, his curls seemed to bounce a little and he wiped his eyes against his sleeve. Connor extended a hand out to Chris, helping him up. Together they walked downstairs to the living room where the rest of the Thomas family was. Connor let go of Chris’ hand only when he began to rush over to his Mother and into her arms. Though tears streamed down her face, she smiled at her son and the little ties he and Connor wore. Connor gave her a small smile back before disappearing to find his own family.

 

Connor looked into the bathroom mirror, clad in his usual missionary uniform he ran a comb through his bright red hair. His eyes were drawn to the sky blue tie that fell down his chest, concealing his shirt buttons. It was the same tie he had worn almost everyday during his ongoing mission. The same tie he wore on his graduation and the tie he almost wore to homecoming. It had been three years since he had first gotten this tie, it had belonged to his best friend Chris. His old best friend...

Why did things change between them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you guys seem to be really interested in a pov switch and because I messed up on making the memory first person I decided to use my mistake as a link between Poptarts and McKinley!
> 
> Also, I changed the chapter titles cause honestly they were annoying me


End file.
